


Moondust

by writeyourheart



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: A little humour, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Reunions, also haline and their daughter and mark and tavvy, also tessa on the phone ?, and carstairs baby is mentioned, jules and emma are there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 01:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17091155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourheart/pseuds/writeyourheart
Summary: Kit and Ty reunite three years after their seperation at the end of Queen of Air and Darkness."“You never said goodbye,” he whispered, as if the entire world had gone quiet in order to finally hear the words of his heart aloud. Kit heard him. Kit heard everything he ever said. “You just left. You left like you were never here at all.”Kit’s lips moved, attempting to utter words he knew he could not compose.“But you were here,” Ty continued. His voice began to shake, and his eyes were a saturated storm that left Kit flailing through a hurricane of memories. “And I tried to forget that you were. I tried to rip you from my mind. I tried to erase you from my thoughts, but all I could ever do was remember you.”"





	Moondust

 

The sound of rain slapped against the cool, thick glass of the Los Angeles Institute with determination.

Loud, and piercing; bold and untiring.

         Kit let the noises calm him. His fingers quickly tapped against the kitchen table he had not seen in three years, a penetrating anxiety consuming him entirely.

         “So,” Emma mumbled awkwardly, stuffing a chocolate chip cookie into the depths of her mouth. “How’ve you been?”

         She stood before him in the kitchen, tall and intimidating. She was almost exactly as he remembered her, except for the freshly cut hair that barely brushed against her shoulders. Her eyes were still a stubborn brown, and she still carried herself with an oddly suiting mixture of fierceness and wit. Despite the years of distance and all the experiences he had not seen her pursue, his admiration for her did not seem to diminish.

         Straightening his back, his mouth twisted upwards in a forceful smirk. “I’m good,” Kit said. “How’s everything with you — with everyone.” _With Ty._ It’s what he wanted to say. The name strayed away from his lips however, as it had for years.

         “Not too shabby,” she claimed, pressing herself into the chair next to him. Kit’s fingers continuously patted against the wood of the table as Emma reached for a napkin. “Jules and I are planning on finding our own place to stay, seeing as Helen and Aline have things under control over here.”

         Kit smiled. “That’s good.”

         Emma smiled back. For the first time since he’d arrived two hours prior, Kit realized a sense of unease within her gaze. “Yeah, it is.”

         Her piercing eyes met his, and it was as if she was looking right through him: as if she could see the infinitely large, historical whirlpool of his life.

         “Dru?” He asked aloud, a clap of thunder diminishing the clarity of his words.

         “She’s doing great,” Emma said as a proud smile snuck its way to her lips. “She’s always hanging out with her friends now! We barely get to see her, and when we do she’s never without one of them.”

         Kit found himself subconsciously relieved. He missed Dru; her sly humour, her enormous heart, her wild horror movies. She deserved so much more than what she got, and perhaps, finally, she was receiving it.

         “I’m glad she’s happy,” Kit simpered. Emma nodded, her eyes consistently set on his. “And Tavvy?”

         “Big!” She laughed. “Well, bigg _er,_ but otherwise the same. He and Rafe keep telling everyone how badly they want to be _Parabatai_. I think they’re counting down the days until they can.”

         Kit chuckled. His smile did not reach his eyes. Neither did Emma’s.

         Kit’s mouth opened, then closed. The sound of rain hit the windows with an eerie insistence that left Kit purely uneasy. Before he attempted to say anything else, Emma’s steady voice seemed to persist above the sounds of the storm.

         “Ty’s all right,” is all she said. The sound of Ty’s name aloud, on the lips of someone so distantly familiar, struck him straight in the gut. “He’s pretty busy at the Scholomance. It occupies his mind, I think.”

         Kit clenched his jaw. He’s okay. _He’s okay._ For merely a second, he closed his eyes. Relief washed over him like a wide, towering wave that collapsed against the sea. And then he looked at Emma, and all sense of relief was gone.

         Her gaze was somber and apprehensive, her shoulders tense and her lips pressed tightly shut. Her body language seemed to contradict every word she had uttered.

         “Ty’s all right,” she continued. “He’s as all right as he can be, considering—”

         “Livvy.” The name slips from his mouth before he can stop it, mingling with the bold sounds of thunder that boom throughout the Institute. He moved a hand from the table and pressed it against his lips, as if he could take back what he had said.

         Emma’s gaze softened at the mention of Livia, but she shook her head. “Considering Livvy,” she hesitated, “but I was just going to say considering…. _everything_.”

         Everything. Of course, it was everything; the battle, the Scholomance, the distance from his family, the secret of his twin’s misconducted resurrection. If after all this time, Kit was still scarred from his experiences with the Blackthorns, then how was Ty not supposed to be?

         Not knowing what to say, Kit nodded solemnly as a flash of lightening appeared from the window behind Emma. For a second, the room brightened with a fluorescent white that nearly blinded him. Kit swore that for merely a second, he could see the discrete and translucent silhouette of a girl in a white dress. When the flash of lighting is gone, so is the she.

         “He’s coming back soon,” Emma said gently. “Next week. He’s coming to visit everyone.”

         Kit swallowed harshly. “I’ll be back in Devon by then. Jem and Tessa should pick me up as soon as they’re finished speaking with Magnus. It shouldn’t take too long, so I’ll probably be gone within the next three days.”

         “Oh,” is all Emma mustered. She tucked a curl behind her ear, her fingers grazing against her cheek as she rested her head onto her palm. “Well, you know you’re always welcome here.”

         Kit smiled at her as he stood from the chair, making his way to his bedroom. He had arrived around midnight, and Emma and Julian were the only ones awake.

         “Thank you,” he breathed, walking past her. “It’s late, we should both go to sleep. Goodnight.”

         “Kit!” Emma cried, the sound of rain slowly dying out. Kit turned to face her by the doorway, and though she were merely lit by the dim, orange lights of the kitchen, he could clearly see the concern painted onto her features. “It’s okay to miss him.”

         Kit clenched his jaw, the words slamming into him, nearly leaving him dizzy.

         “He misses you, too,” she coaxed. “Everyone can tell.”

         _No, he doesn’t_ , his subconscious reminded him. _Not after what you did. Not after what you said._

Unshed tears snuck their way to his eyes. He blinked them away, heavily taking in a breath of salty-sea air that consistently crept in through open windows. The scent was pungent and familiar, and all it did was leave Kit dizzier.

         “Goodnight, Emma,” Kit said, and she stared at him with a lingering sense of longing; as if he held the key to an indestructible door. But all that Kit held was a stinging inferno of regret that continuously burned him alive. 

         He knew that her eyes did not leave him as he walked into the dark depths of the hallway.

         As he forced himself up the stairs, he shoved a hand into his jacket pocket.

         _Ty hates you,_ his mind convinces.

_You mean nothing to him._ Kit’s hand meets the cool touch of a small, familiar item.

_You never have._ He moved it out of his pocket, squeezing it within his grip.

_Not ever._ Kit closed his eyes as thunder shook throughout the Institute.

_Not once._ The witchlight Ty gave him flashed open suddenly, illuminating the pathway and turning his skin a pearly white. Still however, all that Kit could see was the dark.

* * *

 

 

         “He looks the same,” uttered a tiny voice. Kit groaned quietly into his pillow, his mind still wrapped around a blanket of unconsciousness.

         “Not really,” another, softer voice said. Kit felt sleep slipping off of him like a thick coat falling from his shoulders. “He looks fitter. He’s clearly gotten a lot more training. And his face got older, too.”

         “Yeah, he looks like a real grandpa now.”  Kit twisted within the warmth of the blankets, the voices growing louder and louder but his eyes remaining tightly shut.  For a moment, he thought it was Willa’s voice: high-pitched and delicate and teasing. But as the voices persisted, he came to realize that it could not belong to the three-year-old girl who would barely be able to _pronounce_ the word “grandpa.” Not that she ever would have needed to.

         No, this voice was familiar. The memory of blue-green eyes and a vibrant, crooked-smile flashed throughout the darkness of his hazy consciousness.

         When his eyelids burst open, he was met with those exact ocean eyes, paired with a toothy grin. Octavian Blackthorn stared, his head tilted sideways as if analyzing something extremely peculiar. Perhaps this _was_ quite peculiar to him. After all, he was merely a mysterious boy who’d lived with him for only a little while before disappearing into oblivion. And now, here he was again, as if he had magically reappeared out of thin air. Though, it surely felt that way to Kit.

         Hovering behind him stood a rather tall girl wearing a black overall dress that was layered over a white t-shirt. Her chocolate-coloured hair was loosely braided, and stray strands fell carelessly, shaping her face and nearly hiding the focus laced within her features. Ocean-coloured eyes, just like her brother’s. 

         “Good mornin’ Grandpa,” Tavvy giggled, his head bouncing upright, and his grin plastered to his face. Kit sighed and pressed a fist to his eyes, rubbing each of them stubbornly. “Do you need me to fetch you your cane, or are you one of the cool grandpa’s who have those electric wheelchairs you hit people with?”

         Dru giggled behind him, her eyes avoiding Kit’s. Placing a hand on Tavvy’s shoulder, she navigated him towards the door. “Alright Tavvy, I don’t think Kit wants to be harassed by a ten-year-old on his first morning back.”

         Tavvy sighed dramatically, casting one last glance at Kit by the doorway. “Typical old people. You’re just jealous that I have more time left on this Earth than you do.” And with that, he flashed Kit one last grin and stumbled into the hallway, his laugh echoing throughout the Institute.

         Half-dazed from sleep and half-taken-aback from Tavvy’s first words to him in over three years, Kit forced himself upright onto his elbows, leaning against the cool wall behind his bed.

         “Good morning?” Kit mumbled awkwardly, running a hand through his tousled hair. Dru stared at him blankly, as if unsure how to react. “Always nice to wake up to admirers.”

         “Huh,” Dru said, walking towards Kit, her arms folded against her chest. If Kit had not known her before, he would have thought she were extremely intimidating. Subtly, he still did. “Should’ve figured that you’re still the king of sarcasm.”

         “Nice to see you, too,” Kit grumbled as Dru sat by the foot of his bed. She didn’t look all to different: her hair was longer, and her figure was rather curvier, but she was still Dru. The golden streaks of her curls were still apparent in the sunlight, and her eyes were just as bold and curious as he remembered. She was older, but he still saw the thirteen-year-old girl he’d taught how to pick locks. Within her gaze, he still found the girl who helped him scam Baranabas, the girl who made determination seem easy, the girl who’d lost her sister.

         Though she didn’t look all too different, it was slightly odd seeing her again. A knot began to form inside of his stomach as memories flooded through him, as if a dam within him had broken.

         “What’re you doing here?” Dru asked flatly. She stared at him with eyes so menacing he nearly thought he was still asleep, that he was merely having a nightmare.

         “Tessa and Jem went to see Magnus,” he claimed. “They needed to ask him something important, and they said I didn’t have to come with them.”

         “Okay,” Dru said, clearly unsatisfied. “That still doesn’t explain why you couldn’t have stayed in Devon.”

         “Jem and Tessa said it’d be nice for me to visit Los Angeles,” Kit explained. “That I should go back home. Where I grew up. I thought they were right, I mean, I haven’t been back in over three years. But I didn’t really think they meant _here,_ as in _the Institute_ , right until I portaled.”

         Dru’s eyebrows furrowed in an aggressive confusion. “Well where the hell did you think they were going to send you?”

         Kit swallowed. “I, uh — I don’t know,” he admitted embarrassingly. Dru was right. He was foolish to think they’d let him wander throughout Los Angeles by himself for three days, staying alone in an apartment, without Willa, or anyone, interrupting or disrupting.

Perhaps he had strayed so far from Institutes, so cozy at home in his cottage, that he had forgotten the purpose of an Institute entirely. He had forgotten that Institutes were not solely places that held lingering, stinging memories.

         “Well, I guess _that_ hasn’t changed about you either,” she snorted, lifting herself from the foot of Kit’s bed, moving across to room in order to open a window. The rain had stopped, and sunlight spilled into the room without reluctance.

         “ _What_ hasn’t changed?” Kit asked, clearly offended.

         “Your inability to think things through,” she declared simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. With that, she made her way to the doorway, leaving Kit alone in an unfamiliar room that was far too bright for the haziness of his mind. “You should hurry up and come downstairs before all the pancakes are gone,” she called from the hallway.

         What was wrong with Dru? He’d never done _anything_ to her. He included her, and he made Ty include her, too. He had always thought of her as a friend. Clearly, the feeling wasn’t mutual. Perhaps there was a trend that was against him in the Blackthorn family: unrequited feelings.

Lifting himself from his bed, Kit felt the knot grow tighter within his stomach. He wasn’t in the mood for pancakes at all.

 

* * *

 

The kitchen was loud. It was a cluster of overlapping voices and laughter and groaning and asking for “more pancakes,” or asking someone to “pass the maple-syrup.” There were bodies bumping into each other and a series of “whoops,” and “sorry’s” that were quickly disregarded as the Blackthorn’s moved from topic to topic.

It was oddly familiar, Kit thought. But it was still different. Helen and Aline were the vibrant dominant forces in the room, ordering Tavvy to sit back down and asking Dru to get the orange juice and telling their five-year-old daughter, Kaia, to take Church off of the table. Her hair tucked behind her pointy ears, the little girl grabbed the cat at placed him on her lap, petting him with purpose.

It was odd without Livvy. The room felt emptier without her gracefulness, without her effortless stride and her gentle laugh. Without Ty seated closely in the chair right next to her.

As Kit walked in from where he lingered by doorway, everyone seemed to stop what they were doing in order to stare. Helen froze, a pancake crookedly falling off of the spatula that was halfway on Tavvy’s plate. Julian was left motionless by the fridge door and Emma abandoned the fork that was only inches away from her mouth. Dru was frozen in place, her still hand reaching for the maple-syrup. Mark was there, too, to his surprise. A glass of water was pressed against his lips, though he wasn’t drinking any of it.  

It was like staring at an awfully uncoordinated painting. He hoped that Julian would not find any inspiration from this moment.

“Glad to see that you’ve all perfected the mannequin challenge,” Kit said, moving to sit next to Tavvy. The boy had an orange slice motionless within his mouth.

“What’s the mannequin challenge?” Kaia asked, genuine curiosity laced within her voice. Her hair, a mixture of light pink and blonde, brushed against her fragile shoulders. Kit wondered if she were half-Shadowhunter, like Helen.

“The newest social media trend,” Dru answered, thoughtlessly. “It’s all over Instagram.”

Julian raised an eyebrow from where he had moved next to Dru. “How would you know.”

Dru’s eyes were awkwardly set on the maple-syrup she held. “Uh,” she stuttered. “I overheard some mundane girl talk about it on the pier last week.”

“Uh-huh,” Julian hummed, clearly unimpressed. Kit had forgotten that most Shadowhunters weren’t supposed to come into contact with the mundane world, especially things like social media. Jem and Tessa didn’t really seem all too bothered that Kit was invested with pop culture. They saw it as the lasting bits of who he used to be: the part of himself he shouldn’t have to say goodbye to.

Attempting to disregard what his sister had just admitted to, Julian smiled at Kit. “So, how’d you sleep? Seeing as it’s your first night back here it may not have been the easiest of nights.”

It wasn’t.

“Meh, I was pretty tired,” Kit said. It was the truth. “I pretty much crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow.” That was a lie.

His mind did not rest last night. His thoughts were a whirlpool of old memories, and Ty’s name flashed carelessly throughout his head like a neon light. The memory of his smile, his steel-coloured eyes, the way he asked to be held on the roof of the London Institute. It was too much for Kit. The memories had haunted him throughout the years, but being back here, at the Institute, sent all of them crashing into him mercilessly.

“Well, I am glad that you are well rested,” Mark claimed. Out of everyone, Mark had changed the least. He still held a gentle assurance within his gaze that allowed Kit to feel slightly more at ease. Next to him, Kaia tugged at his arm.

“Who is he?” she whispered rather loudly, seeing as everyone around the table heard. Mark opened his mouth to answer, but no words seemed to escape.

         Kit didn’t blame him. Kit didn’t know who he was, either. Individually, he was the Lost Herondale, the Lost Heir, the boy who’d watched his father die, the boy who had no mother. He was the boy who had chosen to move in with married strangers and their daughter who treated him with a paternal warmth so welcoming it lit him up like witchlight within the confused, obscurity of his heart.

         But to the Blackthorns, he was even more than that. He was the boy who came. The boy who befriended their brother. The boy who left.

         It was Tavvy who answered, however. Dropping the orange peel from his mouth and onto his plate. “He’s Ty’s friend,” he said simply, as if there were no other possible answer.

         The room fell quiet for merely a few seconds, until Kaia spoke up.

“Uncle Ty?” Kaia’s face lit up at the mention of her uncle, a smile prominent on her lips. “Well, why isn’t he here with you? I miss him! We never get to see him.”

Kit swallowed, unsure what to say. His heart was beating restlessly within his chest.

“You’re so lucky,” Kaia continued. “If you’re his friend, then you must see him all the time.”

“They’re not _that_ close, Kaia,” Dru said, and Kit wondered how she managed to be as gentle as she was bitter. She then raised her eyebrows at Tavvy, shaking her head. Tavvy shrugged, not understanding what he had done wrong.

“Oh,” Kaia mumbled, her light green eyes staring widely at Kit. “Well, you’re lucky anyways. Anyone who gets to know Ty is lucky.”

Kit felt his teeth clench. Dru’s eyes shot daggers into his. He knew what she was thinking. He knew what she had meant in his room: _Anyone who lets my brother go is an idiot._

Realizing that everyone was staring at him again, Kit pushed himself upwards, leaving the table. “I uh— I have to use the bathroom.”

Stumbling away, Kit wandered out of the kitchen. His insides were on fire, memories continuously soaring through him: _I wish I’d never known you, I wish I’d never known you, I wish I’d never known you._

Heading towards the stairs, however, his body collided with another instantaneously. He was thrown off balance, falling onto his side and hitting his hipbone harshly against the marble floors of the entryway, right in front of the staircase.

Groaning, Kit closed his eyes, his hand moving to hold his hip instinctively.

He heard shuffling next to him. The other person had fallen, too.

“Sorry!” The voice said urgently. It was deep, and warm, and strangely comforting. Clearly, the voice belonged to another boy.

  _Familiar,_ Kit’s mind insisted. The voice was familiar. His eyes still closed, Kit moved his head, so he was directly facing the boy next to him.

He heard a gasp; the hitch of a steady breath.

Kit’s heart felt as though felt as though it were standing at the edge of the Institute’s roof, the wind wild and unforgiving.

“Kit,” the voice uttered exceptionally delicately, as if his name were enough to shatter the entirety of the universe. Kit immediately knew who the voice belonged to. How could he forget the sound of his name on such tender lips, even after three years?

Opening his eyes, he felt his heart leap.

Steel grey eyes stared back at him, and they did not blink once.

 His heart jumped off the roof of the Institute, soaring though the air for a beautiful second before crashing into the harshness of the enveloping sea waves.

Another memory seemed to harness his mind. His entire soul was on fire.

Kit let the memory set him ablaze as he sat crookedly on the marble floor of the entryway, his hands cradling his hipbone, his eyes infinitely attached to the ones that gazed him back at him. The ones he had not seen for three years. The ones he had dreamt of every night since then.

The colour grey had never been so beautiful.

_I love you, Ty. I love you. I love you, Ty. I love you. I love you, Ty. I love you._

* * *

The moments that followed were purely hazy: it was like watching a video at twice the speed.

The others had gotten up after hearing the noise, coming to the entryway. Kaia had screamed “Uncle Ty!” as if the words had won her one million dollars. Dru ran into Ty’s arms, falling onto her knees right by him and Kit on the floor. Ty held her against him with force, and despite the steadying pressure of Dru’s grip, Kit could see the shakiness of his hands. 

 Kit scrambled up quickly, ignoring the pain of his hipbone, the world around him loud and dizzying. He walked away as the others approached Ty gently, careful not to bombard him, asking him if he was okay. The last thing Kit saw as he glanced back from the top of the staircase was Julian shoving Ty into his arms. Kit stifled a gasp when noticing that Ty was taller than his brother, and that his head was arched in his direction.

_Don’t look back._

His heart was an unsteady mess within his chest. It beat without reluctance, without fear, without hesitation. It stung him and stabbed him and urged him forward within the Institute halls towards his room.

He had to call Tessa and Jem, he had to leave, he had to go home.

Being at the Institute was bad enough, but _seeing_ Ty was a sheer punch to the gut. It sent him flying through time, through memories, through pain and love and ache and regret.

Kit knew that he was a being coward, but he was accepting of it. He couldn’t face Ty. Not after what he’d done to Ty. Not after what he’d said to Ty. Not after knowing how Ty truly felt about him.

The throbbing inside of him grew each time his memory replayed the moment Ty’s eyes met his. The greyness of his gaze consuming him. Each beat of his heart felt like a slam to the chest.

Opening the door of his bedroom, Kit gasped loudly.

“ _By the Angel!_ ” He screeched, a hand moving to press against his chest, right above the pounding of his heart.

Livvy’s ghost smirked teasingly at him, her transparent arms folded across her translucent chest. She was positioned as Dru had been earlier, except for the fact that she hovered over him, her white dress falling to her ankles.

“Not an Angel, Herondale,” she hummed. “Just a ghost.”

Forcing himself into the room, he shut the door from behind him, pressing his back against it reassuringly, staring right at Livvy. She looked exactly as he remembered her, of course. It’s not like she could age, or change outfit, or cut her hair.

Seeing her was bittersweet. She surely _was_ Livvy. If you excluded the transparency, her figure was exactly as he remembered: tall, willowy and athletic. Another sequence of memories stumbled into his mind. Livvy by the beach, laughing as she whipped rocks into the ocean, and beaming as they caused ripples amongst the water. Livvy sitting on the library floor, her legs thrown across Ty’s, her laptop pressed against legs. Livvy braiding Dru’s hair on the couch, Dru pressed against Livvy’s legs as her long, skilled fingers twisted and twirled. He remembered thinking how much they’d looked alike in that moment. Light brown hair, ocean-coloured eyes, wide smiles and gentle voices.

But Dru had grown. Dru had changed. Livvy hadn’t.

“What?” Livvy quipped, eyebrows raised. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a ghost before.”

“What—” Kit stuttered, his heart incessantly beating manically. “What are you doing in my room—Ty’s downstairs and aren’t you—you’re supposed to be—aren’t you tied to him?”

Livvy nodded, gliding towards the open window, her dress trailing behind her like a long, elegant veil. Sunlight turned her slightly golden. She seemed surreal. A hazy dream, the quick glimpse of a shooting star, the sudden sight of somebody that you used to know.

“I am,” she stated. “But to be tied to somebody does not solely mean to be tied to _them_. It means to be tied to all that affects them.”

Kit blinked. Livvy stared.

“I am not merely tied to Ty’s presence,” she explained, her voice steady and clear. “I am tied to his heart.”

“Okkkayyyyyy,” Kit said, stretching out the word, an intense sense of unease stabbing him repeatedly.

To be back at the Institute after three years was overwhelming. Seeing Dru was like a punch to the gut. Seeing Tavvy was a slap across the face. Seeing Helen and Aline and their _daughter_ was like being hit by a truck. Seeing Emma and Julian and Mark was like falling from the highest building in the world.

Seeing Ty, even for purely a second, was like finding gold amidst a sea of silver: beautiful, and out of place, and surreal. Beauty overlapping beauty.

But seeing Livvy, too—or at least, the ghost of her—was like being thrown into an overwhelming whirlpool of chaotic emotions and memories.

An ache inside of his chest growled at him like an angry demon.

“Why are you up here then,” Kit asked. “Ty’s heart is downstairs, with Julian and Dru and the others. They probably haven’t seen each other in months and—”

“I know that you are not an idiot, Herondale,” said Livvy’s ghost. She was not staring at him, but rather staring out the window. The sounds of waves crashing against the seashore met his ears, and Livvy’s too, seeing as she sighed amongst the music of the ocean. “And I know that part of your heart is made up of regret.”

“What?” It stumbled from his lips without thought, an instinctive need to defend himself despite knowing the truth behind Livvy’s words.

“You know what you’ve done,” Livvy told him. “I do not have to explain it, nor do you have to justify it. Not to me, at least.”

Kit shook his head passionately. “I don’t know. I don’t understand.”

Livvy’s head twisted from the window and her eyes met his, and though he can see right through them, he felt as though _she_ could see through _him_ just as clearly.

“You do,” is all she said. There’s a somberness to her gaze that overlaps the sternness. “If you did not know, then you would not feel as you do now.”

“And how _do_ I feel?” Kit retaliated, an irritable aggression within his words.

He just wanted to go home. He wanted to forget this happened. He wanted to forget the smoothness of Ty’s voice and the boldness of his eyes. He wanted to forget the harshness of Dru’s words. He wanted to pretend that he’d only ever seen Livvy’s ghost three years ago. Never once more since then. But here she was, in front of his eyes; real and affirmative and unforgettable.

 “Overwhelmed,” she said simply. “Overwhelmed because you had avoided your feelings for years by hiding away in another city. Hiding away in another country that felt like another world.”

She moved towards Kit with an odd mixture of grace and intimidation. “You hid from anyone that reminded you of your past. You dodged all questions and attempts to come back here; to the place that would force you to confront your feelings.”

Facing him, Livvy lifted a hand, as if to brush her palm against his face. It hovered by his cheek, steady and unmoving. “And here you are, finally confronted. Far more than you had thought you ever would be.”

Kit blinked as Livvy’s hand fell to her sides. Though her eyes did not hold much colour, he’d never seen brighter ones before.

“You are afraid. Afraid of the past. Afraid of confronting it. Afraid of the consequences.”

Kit did not even attempt to disagree.

“But you are not the only one who carries this boulder of pain like an overbearing second heart,” Livvy said delicately. “Nor are you the only one oblivious to this fact.”

“Livvy,” Kit whispered, clenching his jaw. “I barely even looked at him.”

Livvy nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.

“I barely even looked at him,” Kit repeated. The words sounded like one long, tedious sigh that dreads being voiced. “And simply because of that moment, I feel like I’m going to explode.”

Livvy smiled gently. It’s a sad, reluctant smile that does not meet her eyes. She placed a hand towards Kit’s chest, right above his heart, though she did not touch him.

“As I said, I am here because I am tied to Ty’s heart,” Livvy cooed. “Perhaps if you listen to me, you may come to realize that a moment of confrontation can shatter an eternity of regret.”

And with that, Kit blinked, and she was gone as suddenly as she appeared.

He stood, pressed against the door, continuously breathing heavier and heavier. The world around him was dizzying. Tears blurred his vision as he slid down against the door, tucking his knees under his chin, burying his face within his palms.

Livvy’s words were an endless loop in his mind:  _You are afraid. You are afraid. You are afraid._

 

* * *

 

 

Kit slept. He slept, tangled in a thick blanket. He slept for hours—for most of the day, really. He slept dreamlessly, until the sun kisses the horizon, turning everything in Kit’s makeshift bedroom warm and golden.

And when he woke up, it was to a loud, persisting knock that reminded him that he was, unfortunately, not dead.

Groaning, he forced himself out of bed, the world still purely a lazy blur. Opening the door, he was met with bothered, ocean coloured eyes.

“Dinner’s ready,” Dru said flatly. She eyed him questioningly. “You should fix yourself a little before you go downstairs.”

Kit sighed, nearly closing the door on her. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Dru’s foot squeezed in before he could shut the door. She shoved it back a little, towards Kit. He nearly stumbled at her strength.

“You should take _more_ than a minute,” she persisted, continuously staring at him with wide, curious eyes. It was as if she were trying to steal something from him. Something like information, or dignity. “Really, you look stunned.”

“Stunned?” Kit raised his eyebrows. He moved from the door in order to face the mirror on his wall. He was then met with a rather sad reflection: wildly messy, golden hair, eyes that seem hypnotized. Kit ran a finger through his curls, and the setting sun turned his skin to honey.

“Yeah,” Dru continued. She closed the door behind her slyly, as if hiding a secret. “You look like you’ve seen something unusually strange.”

“Wow, thank you so much for you kindne—”

“Like a ghost,” Dru said so quickly it was nearly incomprehensible, jumbling the words together.

Kit’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

Dru gasped loudly; a victory noise.

“ _I knew it!_ ” She exclaimed, approaching Kit. “You saw Livvy! I knew she’d come to see you, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

“How do you—”

“I overheard Magnus talking to Ty after you left,” she said the words extremely fast, as if they meant nothing.

“Dru,” Kit tried to continue, but the younger girl kept blabbering.

“What did she say?” Dru asked fiercely, her eyes vibrant, her hands clasped onto Kit’s forearm. “She talked to you about Ty, didn’t she! I mean, of course she did, what else would she say?”

“Well, if you don’t let go of my arm I won’t have any blood circulation left to live,” Kit claimed. “So, I wouldn’t be able to tell you what she said.”

         Releasing his arm, Dru gasped, “Sorry!”

For the first time since he’s seen her, he very vibrantly saw the Dru in her that he remembered. With her guard down, her passionate excitement dominated her. Her smile was wide and prominent. Upon seeing this side of her, Kit suddenly realized how much he missed Dru. He smiled back at her warmly, chuckling.

“You’d better be,” he said. “This is a very valuable arm. Herondale limbs are not sold for cheap at the Shadow Market.”  

Dru giggled, and it illuminated her essence entirely. “Shut up, _Herondale_.”

“Don’t call me that,” he disputed. “You sound like Livvy’s ghost.”

Dru’s eyes went wide. “She calls you ‘Herondale?’”

“Yeah,” Kit said. “It’s weird. The whole ghost thing—it’s really weird.”

Dru nodded solemnly, then shrugged. “I’ve had three years to get used to it.”

“So did I,” Kit claimed. “Though it wasn’t really something I tried to think of.”

Dru eyed him again. There was less intimidation this time. It was more as if she were analyzing him with genuine interest; as if she were scanning for scars even he did not know he had.

         “So that’s what Livvy talked to you about,” she said gently.

         “What, my inability to think things through?” he asked teasingly, repeating her words from earlier. “Yeah, sort of.”

         Dru sighed, looking down at her hands. “I’m glad she spoke to you,” she murmured. “I wish I got to see her.”

         Kit then realized why Dru had been so excited. The mention of Livvy’s ghost was most likely a rare one. He doubted she told Julian or any of the others, and with Ty away at the Scholomance so often, the topic of her sisters wandering spirit was perhaps one she wished she could discuss far more than she did.

         “Maybe you will one day,” Kit told her. “Maybe she’ll need to tell you something important.”

          “Maybe it’s best that I don’t. Chances are that the ‘something important’ would also have to do with ‘something really bad,’ so I’d rather not have to go through another war in order to see my sisters’ ghost.” Dru shrugged sadly. “Besides, even if I do see her, I don’t think I’d be able to see her then let her go again.”

         Kit pressed his lips together tightly and grabbed a tight hold of Dru’s hands. They were soft, and warm. She stared up at him with hesitant eyes.

“I’m sorry, Dru,” he said. He didn’t know if she understood what he was apologizing for exactly. He hoped that she did. He hoped that she realized the depths of his apology. _I’m sorry I left without telling you goodbye. I’m sorry I left at all._

Dru smiled at him as tears begin to form in her eyes. Her arms tangled themselves around his neck. Kit gasped in surprise but leaned in nonetheless. His arms enclosed around her back, and he placed his chin atop her head.

A weight lifted itself from his shoulders, and Kit suddenly felt so much lighter.

“C’mon,” Dru said as they separated. She rubbed her eyes gently, leading him out the door. “Maybe there’s someone else who needs to hear those words.”

 

* * *

 

“Why is he here so early?”

The words were out of place on his lips: foreign and tasteless. He felt as though he didn’t deserve to know anything about Ty anymore. Not after what he’d done.

“Emma told me that he was only supposed to show up sometime next week,” Kit continued.

“He said that he had an early finish to his semester,” Dru explained. “He only found out an hour before he got home.”

They were headed downstairs for supper, Kit trailing behind Dru as the sun’s setting beams illuminated the hallway. Dru’s hair was the colour of a dying flame, her curls bouncing around her as she happily walked towards the staircase. Kit smiled despite the anxiety that ate at him.

“Dru,” Kit began as his steps slowed. She turned to face him, her eyes wide and her hair wildly twirling behind her. Kit clenched his jaw, his hands stroking his jeans repeatedly, trying to diminish their clamminess. “I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

“What?” Dru asked, “Dinner? But it’s lasagna. Lasagna’s always a good idea.”

         Kit glared, heavily sighing. “First of all, not when you’re lactose intolerant. Secondly, you know what I mea —”

         Dru raised her eyebrows. “You’re lactose intolerant?”

         “Well, no— but that’s not the —”

         “Well it’s still a good idea then.” She smirked sneakily, winking at him. And with that, she twirled back around and practically pranced down the stairs, leaving Kit standing awkwardly at the top step, like a singular iceberg in the middle of a vast ocean.

         Tediously, he made his way down the steps, the sounds of mingling voices growing louder and louder the closer he was to the dining room. With every step he took, his heart seemed to speed up.

         So, this is how he would speak to Ty for the first time in three years? In all of his dreams, not one had ever gone like this: surrounded by a multitude of others, eating lasagna, talking about meaningless things.

         As his foot met the marble floor of the entryway, he let himself wander towards the dining room. Arriving by the doorway, he stood, half-hidden by the wall, angled so that no one could see him.

         Aline was passing plates of lasagna around the table as Helen tied back Kaia’s long cotton-candy coloured hair. Emma was trying to convince Julian into giving her his larger slice, and Tavvy was pouring himself a scarily large glass of lemonade that nearly overflowed. Dru was only just sitting down, laughing as Mark poked the lasagna with a fork and nearly picked up the entirety of his slice, dangling it over his plate suspiciously.

         But there was a face missing, a pair of grey eyes that he was preparing himself for. Kit stuck his head in a little further, knowing that if someone were to look towards the doorway, they would clearly see him.

         His eyes quickly glanced throughout the room, but Ty was nowhere to be found.

         “Kit?”

         Kit jolted backwards in surprise, colliding into a strong, solid chest. Gasping, he tumbled away once more, pressing himself against the wall. His blurred vision stabled, and his eyes landed on the boy that faced him.

         Ty stood tall. Really, _really_ tall, actually. He was over half a head taller than him, dressed in a simple grey t-shirt that hung loosely against him. His hair was the same: the colour of a barely luminated night-sky. He was bigger, too — more muscular. Still, he held a delicateness that only Ty seemed to possess. A beautiful, gentle, softness to even the strongest parts of him.

         And as Kit stared at him now, he realized how his face had changed as well. Not entirely. But enough. His cheekbones were high and protruding, his eyebrows were dark and thick, and his eyelashes were long. All traces of baby fat had disappeared entirely. Ty didn’t necessarily look different. He looked older. More defined, more angular.

         Still beautiful.

         Kit felt as though heart were attempting to burst out of his chest in order to escape, the way he used to want to escape the Institute when he first arrived.

         Kit’s throat made an ugly noise that may have passed as a cough. Or a burp. He wasn’t exactly sure.

“Ty!” The words burst from his mouth boldly, and he was sure that everyone in the dining room was suddenly aware of his presence. “Hi — uh —I—uh— yeah, hi.”

         Ty stared at him blankly, no trace of emotion amongst his features despite a slight hint confusion. For a second, Kit wondered if he were going to simply leave. Turn around and act as though he hadn’t seen him all. But perhaps it was simply what Kit _hoped_ for.

         “What’re you doing here?” Was all he said. It was cold, and it slapped him across the face like a terribly aimed frisbee.

         Kit stuttered. He pressed a hand against the back of his neck, his eyes trailing away from Ty’s stern gaze, landing by Ty’s waist. Ty’s arms dangled by his sides, and despite the steadiness of his words, his hands fluttered madly by his hips.

         Kit felt a wave of nostalgia run through him, and suddenly he was fifteen again, and he was holding Ty on the roof of the London Institute with a passion that frightened him.

         “I’m just visiting,” Kit assured. He smiled tightly, as if it hurt. It did. “I’m only here for a little while, until Jem and Tessa are done talking to Magnus.”

         Still avoiding Ty’s gaze, Kit’s eyes landed on his neck. Kit nearly gasped at the sight of Livvy’s locket. The golden, burnt chain was starkly dark in contrast to Ty’s pale skin. The locket was pressed against Ty’s chest, right below his collarbone, rusted and vintage-looking.

         Ty’s hand moved to grab onto it tightly, and Kit found the courage to meet Ty’s eyes. Their gazes locked, and Kit felt his jaw clench instinctively. Ty was staring at him with curiosity, and Kit felt as though he were being investigated.

         “Why are they talking to Magnus?” There was an anxiety laced within his eyes as his left hand aggressively fiddled with Livvy’s locket.

         “I don’t know,” Kit vacillated. The anxiety within Ty’s eyes grew. Ty didn’t like not knowing.

         Kit shrugged loosely. “It’s probably nothing. I think it’s something silly about Willa.”

         Ty barely nodded, as if he were unsure. Kit wondered if he knew that he was lying. But he was Ty, and Ty noticed everything.

Kit groaned internally. This was not at all how this was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to lie to Ty the moment he reunited with him. And he wasn’t supposed to be acting like a mess. And he wasn’t supposed to squeal away from him _twice_ within one day _._

Perhaps Kit was merely destined to be a coward when it came to Tiberius Blackthorn.

“Hey!” Dru stuck her head out the doorway, eyeing the two of them curiously. “Lasagna’s gettin’ cold. Hurry up before Emma eats both of your slices.” She wiggled her eyebrows at them teasingly.

_She can have it,_ Kit thought.

         Without a second glance, Ty made his way into the dining room, his hand releasing Livvy’s locket as the other hand tediously stopped wavering by his side.

         Kit followed him reluctantly, making his way to sit by Emma at the table as Ty sat across from him, next to Kaia.

         “Nice of you both to join us,” Mark noted, chopping up thin pieces of lasagna and observing the layers with intensity.

         Ty eyed him with a mixture of intrigue and apprehension.

         There was an obvious tension within the room. Julian’s eyes were darting between Ty and Kit rather quickly, and Dru sat at the edge of her seat, as if attempting to catch any glimpse of interaction. Emma awkwardly gulped down water as Tavvy very cautiously handed Ty a proudly poured glass of lemonade. Ty accepted it kindly, and for the first time in three years, Kit was left astonished by the utter magnificence of his smile. 

         His eyes were warm, and his hand steadily reached in order to grab the glass Tavvy offered him. Ty stared at his brother kindly, and though his vibrant smile and soft eyes were not directed at him, Kit found himself melting.

         “So, Ty,” Helen began, breaking the silence. “How’s the Scholomance?”

         “It’s all right,” Ty said. “Underwhelming now a days.”

         “How long are you home for?” Dru asked, shoving a piece of lasagna into her mouth.

         “A little less than a month,” Ty stated. “Then I’m back until graduation.”

         Kit’s heart flipped. He suddenly wondered if the reason that he dreaded the concept of reuniting with Ty was the destined fact that they would have to separate again.

         He felt a question stab him repetitively in the gut: _will you say goodbye this time?_

         “Well, I’m happy that you’re home,” Julian beamed. Kit’s eyes moved from Julian’s face to Ty’s. Silver met blue. Very suddenly, the world seemed to stop moving. Kit wondered if Ty had the power to see right through him; right into his soul. “It’s not the same here without you.”

 

* * *

 

 

         The rain fell with no reluctance.

         It fell with no remorse. Harsh, thick raindrops soared throughout the sky. Under the moonlight, they resembled angel tears; silver and shiny and eerily beautiful.

         Wind rustled Kit’s hair as he stood by the half-open window of the library, his phone pressed solidly against his ear. Leaning against a bookshelf, he ran his fingers against cool, glass window.

         “I miss you guys,” Kit said calmly, his eyes closed. “I know it’s only been a day, but I miss home.”

         “Oh Kit,” Tessa said sweetly, her voice soothing him. “We miss you, too. Willa keeps asking for you, and Jem won’t stop asking if we should call. I don’t think calling you every twenty minutes seems quite reasonable, though.”

         Kit laughs, and it echoes throughout the dimly lit library, the lights above him barely luminating the room, leaving everything faintly sunset-hued. “You’d be surprised.”

         There was a peaceful pause. The sound of familiar breathing. The quiet had handed him courage, and Kit could not refuse it.

         “Ty’s back from the Scholomance,” was all he said.

         Another pause. Another breath. Courage laughed at him weakly.

         “Oh,” was all Tessa said.

         “I didn’t think he would be,” Kit said. “I didn’t even process the fact that I was coming back here. I didn’t have the time to realize how much it would hurt.”

         “Kit…”

         “It’s like I’m fifteen again,” Kit murmured so timidly he wasn’t sure if Tessa had heard him. “It’s like I went back in time and I’m exactly where I left off.”

         Tears began to sting his eyes as he admitted, “I just want to go home. It hurts less there.”

         “What does, love?” Tessa asked quietly, her voice as small as his.

         “The regret,” Kit spilled, breathing in heavily in order to hold back a sob. “The memories. It’s so much easier to avoid in Devon. It’s like a whole different world over there—a whole different life.”

         “Christopher,” Tessa sighed. “In life we cannot avoid, we must confront. If we do not, we will be haunted by our regret forever, and that regret will change us. We cannot forever carry burdens that wound us, for we will bleed to death.”

         A sob escaped Kit’s lips, his right hand pressed against his face as his palm caught thick, warm tears. _I know,_ he wanted to say. _I know._

         The sound of an opening door echoed throughout the room, mingling with the sounds of thunder. “I’ve got to go,” Kit said quickly, sniffling harshly and wiping the tears from his eyes. “I’ll call you tomorrow, all right?”

         “Okay,” Tessa said. “I love you, Kit. We’ll see each other soon, I promise.”

         Kit blinked aggressively. “I love you, too.” The line went dead, and Kit could barely stop himself from weeping once more.

         “Oh,” a warm voice behind him said. “I didn’t think anyone would be here so late.”

         Turning away from the window, Kit’s eyes landed on Ty’s with precision.

 Kit’s heart seemed to stop. This was the Ty that Kit remembered; fair and delicate and beautiful, even in such simplicity. He was dressed casually, in black sweatpants and a grey hoodie. His headphones were looped around his neck, and his hands fiddled with something gently. His hair was messy, and the rusted chain around his neck glittered under the dim library lights.

         Confusion laced itself within Ty’s gaze as he stared at Kit with tender curiosity. “Are you crying.”

         “No!” Kit burst, and Ty jumped back suddenly, shocked at the quick, harshness of his tone.

“No,” Kit repeated, stepping forward, as if he could make up for Ty’s steps back. “It’s just the rain. The window was open and uh—I just got all wet.”

“Your eyes are red,” Ty stated matter-of-factly. “You’re lying.”

Kit bit the inside of his cheek, running a hand across the back of his neck. Ty’s eyes were as silver as the moon, but far bolder. And far more beautiful.

Tessa’s voice rang throughout his mind: _in life we cannot avoid, we must confront._

Breathing in heavily, Kit leaned back against the bookcase. “You’re right,” he admitted, avoiding Ty’s gaze. “I am lying.”

Ty walked closer towards him, moving to lean against the bookcase on the other side of the window. A gust of wind twirled his hair, and his hoodie flapped against him comically.

“Why?”

“Because that’s the Rook in me,” Kit stated. “That’s my dad. That’s what he taught me. Even if it feels like two lifetimes ago, it’s still in my roots.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Ty claimed. Kit stared up at him, watching his hands swiftly fidget with something within his grasp. Kit still couldn’t see what it was, despite how close they were in proximity. “Why are you crying?”

Kit breathed heavily, the salty sea air proudly filling his nostrils. How could he lie to Ty: the only person who made lying feel impossible?

“Because I’m back here,” Kit said in a small voice, one sole tear falling to his cheek. He looked out the window in hopes that Ty wouldn’t notice. But Ty noticed everything.

There was a pause, and for a moment all to be heard were the sounds of the waves crashing repetitively against the shore, merged with Kit’s somber sniffling.

“You really hate it here,” Ty said in a voice so unfamiliar Kit thought that he was dreaming. It was small and vulnerable, and Kit expected to blink and be back on the roof of the London Institute. “That’s why you left.”

Kit’s eyes widened suddenly. He shook his head violently, tears spilling carelessly to his cheeks.

“No, Ty,” he mumbled softly.

He stepped forward, and Ty’s hands fluttered with passion. He finally realized that Ty was holding Livvy’s locket. It was detached from the rusted chain, and it was just as worn out.

Kit wanted to grab onto his hands, to lace his fingers through Ty’s and drag him back in time. He wanted to hold him as he cried out Livvy’s name by the lake rather than cower away from him. He wished that he could have held him, could have pressed Ty into his arms and whispered to him, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” while rocking the both of them back and forth.

But he couldn’t go back in time. He could not change the past. But he could face the future, and he could face right now.

He wanted to tell Ty the truth, he wanted to hand him his heart and allow him to shatter it. He would let Ty throw it into the ocean if that was what he wanted. He just couldn’t bear it anymore.

But clearly, Ty couldn’t bear it either. His hands flailed as he shoved past Kit, running out of the library.

Kit ran after him as surely as the rain fell amongst the world—as surely as the thunder shook the sky and lighting lit the night, as if angels had grazed their fingertips amongst the grey of the clouds, illuminating the earth and persisting their existence.

 

* * *

 

 

Together, they stumbled upon the roof. Ty ran forward, standing straight in the middle of the vast space, the rain falling onto him, drenching him entirely.

“Ty!” Kit called out behind him, walking towards him but keeping his distance. Ty stared at him intently, his silver eyed red-rimmed and anxious. “Ty please—”

“You never said goodbye,” he whispered, as if the entire world had gone quiet in order to finally hear the words of his heart aloud. Kit heard him. Kit heard everything he ever said. “You just left. You left like you were never here at all.”

Kit’s lips moved, attempting to utter words he knew he could not compose.

“But you _were_ here,” Ty continued. His voice began to shake, and his eyes were a saturated storm that left Kit flailing through a hurricane of memories. “And I tried to forget that you were. I tried to rip you from my mind. I tried to erase you from my thoughts, but _all_ I could ever do was remember you.”

Finally, the world closed its blinds and left the two of them alone on the roof, as if they were the only existing people in the universe. The moon turned Ty’s skin so silver he could merely be a dream. After all, Kit had dreamt of him like this before.

“Even when Julian and Emma stopped asking about you, and Dru immersed herself with her own friends, and Tavvy seemed to think you were happily away on vacation,” Ty stuttered. “Even when everyone in my world forgot that you existed, you were the liveliest thing in my head.”

Kit’s heart had never felt so heavy. For three years, he had continuously revisited his memories of Ty. The good memories leaving him weary and the bad ones leaving him sick. No matter what it was that he remembered; his laugh, his smile, his cry, his anxiety — he was always struck by overwhelming pain.

Yet still, absolutely nothing could have prepared him for this. Ty — his Ty — tall and handsome and drenched by the rain, stood strongly in front of him; his moon-coloured eyes wide and frantic and determined.

He had both yearned for and dreaded this moment for what seemed like an eternity. And here Ty was, handing him the entirety of his heart, and all Kit could do was fear that he would break it as he once had before.

“You said you wished you never knew me,” Ty said. Wetness met his cheeks and Kit was nearly certain it was not from the rain. “And so, I tried not to know you.”

Kit moved forward, his hands nearly reaching for Ty, trying to steady the shakiness of his body. However, he couldn’t find the power to touch him: as if even the slightest contact would shatter him entirely.

Ty’s hands fluttered by his sides, Livvy’s locket gripped within one of his palms, his chest rose and fell at an alarming rate and he could barely keep himself balanced.

His eyes met Kit’s with shakiness, his gaze overwhelmingly emotional. Kit felt every inch of himself collapse over and over again. Every time Kit thought he could no longer be shattered, he shattered twice as much.

“But I couldn’t.” The words fell from Ty’s lips, delicate, shaky, and vulnerable.  “Not after Livvy. Not after you got _this_ —” his shaky hand held out the locket “—back for me. Not after anything.”

Kit felt a sob escape his lips, and Ty mirrored him, his dark hair plastered to his pale forehead. “And even at the Scholomance, even when my mind was busy and occupied, your memory was so vibrantly alive.”

“Ty—”

“And then I go three years without you,” Ty continued passionately. “And one day I come home and _you’re here_.”

Ty stepped towards him, but he did not reach out. He simply moved shakily, and Kit was amazed at how neither of them shattered.

“ _You’re here_ ,” he breathed delicately. Kit watched a tear blend with raindrop and splatter against the floor. He wasn’t sure if the teardrop was his or Ty’s.

“Ty,” Kit repeated desperately. “You have to understand—” A sob escaped his lips as he stepped closer. If he reached out only slightly, he could the back of his hand over Ty’s cheek, and the universe would combust.

“I didn’t leave because I _hated_ anything,” he wept. “I left because I _loved_ everything _too much_.”

Ty’s eyes widened wildly, and he shook his head vulnerably. Kit wondered if the universe had ever seen anything more delicate than the two of them in this very moment; barely holding together as the rain soaked them.

“I was stupid,” Kit said. “I thought that you didn’t care for me because of your reaction to what I’d said. But how could I blame you, Livvy had just died and you were only just beginning to feel the grief that replaced the numbness.”

“What you’d said?” Ty asked. “What are you talking about?”

         Ty’s eyes were an infinite sea of emotion, and Kit let himself drown amongst the waves.

         His shaky hands moved to graze against Ty’s cheeks, hesitating by his face. _Maybe he doesn’t want to be touched right now,_ Kit thought. _Not by you._

         But Ty leaned in, pressing his head into Kit’s palms.

         For a mere moment, Kit thought he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. He thought that he had blinked and then died; that his soul had left his body and that he had fallen lifelessly into Ty’s unsteady arms. 

         However, as his eyes opened once more, he came to realize that it was purely Ty’s touch that had left him breathless. His skin was burning despite the coldness of the rain that showered over them, and in all of Kit’s dreams, he had never felt so soft.

         “I told you that I loved you, Ty,” Kit proclaimed with a wavering voice. “I loved you. And that’s why I left—because I thought you didn’t love me back. You meant everything to me, and I thought that I meant nothing to you—and that’s why I couldn’t say goodbye—because I loved you.”

         Ty shook his head wildly within Kit’s hands, and Kit moved forward, pressing his forehead to Ty’s. Wet skin met wet skin, and blonde curls met black ones.

         “And I still love you,” Kit whispered, his gaze latched onto Ty’s. Their eyes the spoke the words that their mouths could not emit. “That’s why I couldn’t forget about you, even if Devon felt like a whole other world, I _couldn’t_ _forget about you_.”

         Ty pressed his forehead further onto Kit’s, his shaky arms wrapping themselves around Kit’s back. Kit sighed into his grip as he crumbled in Ty’s arms, one of his hands moving from Ty’s cheek in order to wrap around his shoulders.

         They quivered in each other’s arms, like two lively bees that buzzed amongst a flower’s petals.

         “I love you so much, Ty,” Kit cried, burrowing his head into Ty’s neck. “ _I love you, I love you, I love you._ ”

         And with that, Ty’s legs gave out. Together, they stumbled to their knees, folding themselves into each other, as if holding one another would take back all three years they had spent apart.

         “Kit,” Ty said, and Kit was sure that his name would never sound more beautiful on anyone else’s lips. “ _Watson_.”

         A burst of laughter escaped Kit’s mouth, merging with his bawls and sounding rather like a choking noise. Ty laughed, too, right through his own sob, except Kit had never heard a more ethereal sound.

         “ _I love you._ ” The words fell from Ty’s lips with a vulnerability that shattered the earth.

Kit gasped. He gasped through the tears. Through the laughter. Through the pain and the rain and through the universe. He gasped, and he knew that he had stilled within Ty’s arms. But Ty held him tighter, burying his face into Kit’s neck.

         “Don’t let go,” Ty begged. Kit squeezed him firmer.

         “I wouldn’t dare,” Kit admitted. The rain began to slow as he felt Ty’s lips tug upwards into a smile against his neck, and Kit moved backwards carefully. He grabbed Ty’s face in his hands and stared into his eyes. Moonlight stared back at him. “I’m never letting go, okay? Never again.”

         “Good,” Ty declared as the rain came to a stop. The clouds that hid the moon dispersed, and suddenly everything was slightly brighter. Their sobs grew fainter, and the only shakiness amongst them were Ty’s hands against Kit’s back.

With steadier hands, Kit ran his fingers along Ty’s face. They scanned across his forehead in feather-like touch. They stroked the bridge of his nose, the thickness of his eyebrows, the warmth of his cheeks. His fingertips brushed against Ty’s eyelids that fluttered closed, and his sharp jaw, and his well-rounded chin.

         And then, his lips. Ty gasped, his eyelids flying open. Kit stared at him lovingly, and Ty blinked once. Twice. Three times.

         And then, he leaned in.

         Their lips met, salty from their tears and wet from the rain. Kit felt life burst throughout him like an explosion of the heart; red, and warm and magnificent. His hands ran through Ty’s hair as their lips moved with a slow, steady synchronization. They melted into each other’s arms, calloused and scarred and _beautiful_. So, so beautiful.

         Kit wondered now how he could have possibly gone on bearing the open wound of regret he refused to stitch up. How could he have possibly gone another day without knowing Ty’s words. Without admitting his own.

         Perhaps he would have. Perhaps he would have let himself carry the burden of regret forever. But now, after knowing what it was like to let go, Kit could barely imagine the pain.

         And so, Kit promised himself not to ever let another wound be unattended.  He promised to stitch up every single fragment of pain—to bury every ghost of regret that haunted him.

         He promised now, under the moonlight, within the arms of the boy he had not stopped loving.

Not ever.

Not once.

As their lips pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together, drenched and sniffling on the roof of the Los Angeles Institute.

Above them, the translucent silhouette of a girl faintly disappeared, a subtle smile amongst her lips.

A chorus of words echoed throughout the world and into the night sky as the universe marveled at their beauty. The stars were merely spotlights above them, turning both boys to moon dust.

“ _I love you. I love you. I love you._ ”

 

* * *

fin.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you're as emo as me and that this long ass mess of a fic helped cure you a bit after kitty's depressing ending in qoaad! if you like my work you can find more on my tumblr @/tiberiusblacktorn. Please comment to let me know your thoughts :)


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